


Fairytale

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, M/M, like sugary fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 11:39:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10411311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: The Kingdom of Lucis was not a fairytale land. Even if it had knights and heroes and tournaments.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For a request over at my [Tumblr](http://aithilin.tumblr.com/).

In the arenas and parks of the Crown City, once a year, there was a production of the Crownsguard and the Kingsglaive. When they held the tournaments, it was a big deal. Not for any real show of strength or prowess, but for bragging rights. There were very few, if any, of the games that matched up warriors against each other in the old style of tourney— sparring matches, sure, but not the all out competitions from fairy tales. There was no jousting astride steeds, no dastardly villains from either factions, or shining heroes. 

It wasn’t a fairy tale, despite the prince watching the obstacle courses and smiling as chocobos pecked and prodded at the Crownsguard in their finery. It wasn’t some magical tale despite the Glaives running the course like children— laughing, playing, using the obstacles meant to knock them off their feet to propel themselves forward. It wasn’t a land of knights and dragons despite the Crownsguard glittering in their bright armour, sparring for their king and prince; showing off their skills with chosen weapons. 

It wasn’t a romance for children, despite the way the prince leaned forward, arms folded on the wall in front of his seat, smiling at the Glaive leaning back to talk to him. Despite the way the Glaive— the only one wearing any sort of royal favours, any sort of distinction, would laugh at whatever the prince had just muttered to him. 

It wasn’t a kingdom’s story, despite Cor the Immortal stepping up in his black suit and with a wry look, and offering a sparring match before the king and prince to the Hero of the Kingsglaive. As the Hero grinned and unsheathed his knives, as he offered one of the wicked, curved, foreign weapons to the prince and tossed the second into the air to play with as he accepted the challenge. As the Hero winked and smiled and made an exaggerated bow to the prince (only to get a push to his shoulder for the chivalry). 

There was no fair prize to be won in this match, no bout of honour or fame for either man. But there was a crowd, and these were two of the heroes of Insomnia. 

As they faced each other, one stern, eyeing up the other, the king nudged his son. All the king would say through his smile was “Dessert on Crownsguard.”

And the prince answered, with his own smile. “Kingsglaive.”

Cor was fierce, fearless, obedient. His commander watching proudly as he tested and prodded at defences, as he struck and baited, surefooted in the park grounds. His Crownsguard brethren gathered to watch in their finery of gold and silver and their uniforms in black. Cor was smart and disciplined, and ignored the royal attentions and crowd’s praise as he landed nicks and cuts with his sword. 

Nyx was clever and fast and courageous, fully aware that his own commander would bet against him in the attempt to humble him. But Nyx danced around the quick strikes— he darted and dodged in fast little bursts of crystal light, his favours acting as a distraction to his focused opponent. His own brethren cheered and jeered from the sidelines as he smirks and sidestepped, found clever ways to get close and far, as he happily made his knife sing against the folded steel of his opponent’s sword. 

But Nyx only glanced to see if the prince was smiling. 

They were matched, mostly. Cor had the discipline and experience of a life beside King Regis. But Nyx was the wild of Galahd, laughing and teasing, having years chasing Prince Noctis through the Citadel. 

In the end, Nyx only won because of a magic trick. In the end, Cor was honourable and true, but Nyx was clever and wild. 

In the end, Nyx warped low and kicked at Cor’s legs— got cut for his trouble, but managed to tangle the other man to trip him. 

In the end, Cor conceded as Nyx warped around him and pinned him with his kukri through the shoulder of his jacket. 

There were cheers and jeers, and teases from both sides, even as Nyx helped Cor back up and they parted again as friends. As Nyx sauntered back to his prince to retrieve the second kukri he had let the prince hold, there was no denying the smirk shared between them. 

Noct help out the knife, handle towards the Glaive, his smile masked by the darkness of his hair, by the casual fold of his arms. And Nyx— always clever, fast Nyx— stole a kiss when he gripped his knife. Smirked at the surprise in those too-blue Lucian eyes, at the arched look he received from the king. 

“Just my reward, your highness.”

He laughed as Noct punched his shoulder, as the king shook his head in amusement, as the little wave of chatter spread around them through the crowd.


End file.
